


She Let Me In Her Bed

by thegirlonpeetamellark



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-13
Updated: 2012-09-13
Packaged: 2017-11-14 04:02:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlonpeetamellark/pseuds/thegirlonpeetamellark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peeta remembers things Katniss did. Written for the Tumblr 'Prompts in Panem' 7 Day Challenge: How Peeta and Katniss grew back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Let Me In Her Bed

She fell asleep on the couch before I was finished with my drawing of Boggs.

She wrapped her arms around my neck as I carried her up the stairs.

She grabbed onto my hand after I laid her down in bed, refusing to let go.

She whispered those words she's said to me twice before and I replied the only way I know how. "Always."

She must have been in some half state of consciousness because when I slid into bed beside her she curled up next to me without any hesitation. I could suddenly remember all those nights we shared like this before - in the cave, on the train - so much clearer.

She rested her head on my chest, her arm draped across my body. It took me a long while to finally relax enough to fall asleep, worrying about flashbacks and thinking about how we seemed to fall right back into old habits.

She never came right out and talked about it.

She was shy.

She wouldn't meet my eyes as she grabbed my hand and lead me up the stairs to her bed every night following that first one.

She would go into the bathroom, change into her nightgown, let down her hair, and then come out and slip right into bed, waiting for me to join her.

She would have nightmares nearly every night.

She cried in her sleep a lot.

She would cling to me in desperation, nails digging into my skin, holding on for dear life. Her fear brought me out of the swirling mess that was my own mind, helped me focus on something else, something that was real and right in front of me. It helped remind me who I was before. A boy so desperately in love with this girl that my only concern was making sure she was okay.

She started to get better during the day. Her smiles were a little easier to come by.

She still had trouble at night.

She hunted more regularly.

She greeted me with a hug when I came for dinner and to work on the book.

She talked a little more, even about the past.

She asked how I was doing.

She left the door to the bathroom cracked open one night while she got ready for bed. I couldn't help sneaking a glance at her naked body when she changed. I was hard almost immediately, confirming the fact that yes, I was still alive and yes, I still wanted her as much as ever.

She might have caught me looking at her through the mirror.

She didn't make any effort to close the door.

She asked me if I wanted to go into the woods with her one day.

She took me on a hike I could barely manage and we ended up at a lake.

She told me about her father.

She taught me how to swim.

She would kiss me sometimes unexpectedly, like she couldn't help it.

She was nervous around people she didn't know, especially people who she could tell recognized her as the Mockingjay.

She stayed at home some days, unable to even leave her bed. I would try to get her to talk, but she seemed locked away in her own world of pain and misery. Those were the nights I pulled her against me, my chest flush against her back, not caring if she felt how hard I was. I kissed the curve of her neck and the next morning she was dressed in her hunting gear, all ready to go, before I even woke up.

She helped me with the plans to rebuild the bakery.

She would make Haymitch come over and have dinner with us.

She would hold onto my arm, hiding behind me like a small child does with their parent, when we went out in public.

She started kissing me more often, with a little more heat behind it.

She would walk by her sister's old room, hand hovering over the doorknob, but never go in.

She helped me with my memory. I wrote down a lot of things I remembered, but sometimes I still had to ask her if something was 'real' or 'not real'.

She never got scared when I had a flashback.

She got mad when I told her I wanted to go back to my house one night because I didn't want to hurt her.

She looked so upset I couldn't leave. I paced downstairs for a while after she had stomped up to bed, looking like she was about to cry. Finally, I caved and made my way upstairs, sliding into bed beside her.

She told me I wasn't allowed to leave. Ever.

She kissed me and then fell asleep.

She asked me to teach her how to bake.

She would look at me sometimes in a way that made me hard almost instantly.

She laughed so hard she cried when Plutarch called and I pretended to be Haymitch.

She was really happy when Delly moved back to 12.

She asked me to help her go through Prim's old things one day. I held her as she wept, uncontrollable sobs that made my heart ache. I held onto her so tightly, afraid that if I didn't, she would break into a million pieces, unable to be put back together. I remembered the sweet, innocent girl who loved animals and came to talk to me in 13. I cried too.

She hunted more as more people started to come back to 12.

She wanted to feed the whole district.

She was so proud and happy that she couldn't stop smiling when the bakery re-opened.

She kissed me differently one night, not holding back. Our hands started to wander. I still remember the feel of her breast in my hand for the first time, the feel of the wetness between her legs.

She squeezed her eyes shut as I pushed inside her, clinging to my shoulders.

She groaned and gasped as I pumped my hips in sync with hers.

She told me she loved me in her own way.

She let me in her bed that night and it was only the beginning.


End file.
